I really should have cynically put the dead bird in a bag and thrown it in the trash bin.
Now I can’t stop looking at the spot where I buried it, thinking about it, wondering about it, sad about it. It’s creeping me out.
I really should have cynically put the dead bird in a bag and thrown it in the trash bin.
Now I can’t stop looking at the spot where I buried it, thinking about it, wondering about it, sad about it. It’s creeping me out.
The front page of this blog is littered with sad news of great people who have left us in the last week or so. The sadness continues: Robert H. Justman, who helped bring the original “Star Trek” as well as [more...]
Today is going to be a difficult day for me. It’s the first Thanksgiving that I haven’t been around family; what makes it more difficult is that I am expected to have Thanksgiving with someone else’s [more...]
Latkes – potato pancakes – made from a box are not even half as good as the ones made by my dad, a Protestant Irish former fireman.
Kind’a creepin’ me out too, but in a different way.
As you know… it’s a bird. I certainly hope you don’t feel the same way about the chicken breast I presume you’ve consumed within the last few meals.
….but he was kind of a cute lil’ fella.
Last week I found some birds NESTING in my hanging ferns. To the point where there were eggs and everything. But, those ferns were expensive so I took out the nests, eggs and all and placed them in the yard (to their eventual doom I suppose). So, in one ironic swoop, I aborted a few baby birds and pissed off a mother, and probably PETA (the PETA aspect I thoroughly enjoyed).
So, what was my justification? First off the momma birds kept spooking the crap out of me every time I’d water- like they were protecting something, huh, whatever. But like I said- those ferns were EXPENSIVE. Really it’s all about perspective and pocketbook.
Now, off to run my petroleum conglomerate.
Carry on.